


riddikulus!

by arcaine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Banter, Competition, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mischief, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rivalry, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaine/pseuds/arcaine
Summary: Winning against him is impossible, losing to him is not an option... but asking Renjun Huang to the Yule Ball? Now that would be ridiculous.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 77
Kudos: 507
Collections: Renhyuck Fic Fest Round 1





	riddikulus!

**Author's Note:**

> for renhyuck fic fest - #0061 
> 
> .*•.•*.  
> this scene is in the present — seventh year. 
> 
> .*•. [Xth] YEAR .•*.  
> this scene is a flashback — takes place in whatever year is stated.

.*•.•*.

Not one person at the entire Slytherin table, Donghyuck included, was paying attention to the annual welcome speech until Headmistress Irene dropped the phrase _Yule Ball_. 

Jaemin whips around in a half of a second, abandoning his over-frosted pastry. “Did she just say Yule Ball? Hold on. Everyone shut up.” 

“As usual, _you_ were the only one talking,” Yangyang mutters, but Jaemin just shoots him a glare and in an instant Yangyang’s vocal cords have become magically muted. He curses inaudibly, resorting to the finger when he realizes that Jaemin seems to have finally mastered a nonverbal silencing spell. 

Jaemin ignores the gestures. “Is she serious? Are they actually bringing the Yule Ball back? This is the best news of my life,” he insists, stuffing another pastry with a horrendous icing ratio into his mouth. “I can’t wait.” 

Donghyuck grants them both an eye-roll. “What’s so great about the Yule Ball, Jaem?” He honestly doesn’t get the excitement. A ball seems like a pretty outdated concept. Why bring it back now? There’s a reason the school hasn’t thrown it in years: nobody cares. Nobody wants to put on dress robes and slow dance under Professor Kim’s supervision— Donghyuck _certainly_ doesn’t. He shudders at the thought. “I mean, really, I think I’d rather just go to the Hog’s Head than go on a date in the Great Hall.” 

Jaemin chews thoughtfully, washing his sugar down with a drink that’s less of a _coffee_ and more of a _caffeine potion_. How he’s made it to seventh year with his diet is truly frightening. “Nah, dude. It’s not about the actual dance, nobody cares about that. It’s all about the _chaos_.” He rubs his palms together, eyes glinting like a villain from one of Mark’s muggle cartoons. “The intrigue! Finding out who’s into who, people fighting over other people, illegal love potion distribution… My mom has told me stories about this stuff. It makes people go insane! Trust me, our last year just got so much more entertaining. I can’t wait to watch everyone go crazy.” He twirls the spoon around in his mug. “But also, I do think it can be kinda romantic.” 

“Really?” Donghyuck frowns. “You never struck me as a romantic, Na.” 

Jaemin smirks. “I’m full of surprises.”

Yangyang shoves at his arm, still trying to get a word past the spell to no avail. Donghyuck flicks his wand, and the silence breaks mid-sentence. 

“—not a romantic, you’re a narcissist. You just want to know how many people are into you,” Yangyang jabs. “You’re only in love with yourself!” 

Jaemin narrows his eyes. “It’s like he’s _asking_ for his tongue to turn into a worm,” he sighs to nobody in particular. 

Yangyang shoves him again, leaning over to grab a piece of toast. “Don’t use your little tricks on me again or I’ll put a shrinking spell on your—”

“O-kay!” Jaemin shrieks. “Bloody hell, Liu. You scare me sometimes.”

“Good,” Yangyang grins. 

Jaemin must be tired of pissing off Yangyang, because he turns back to Donghyuck and prods at him with his wand. “What about you? C’mon, man, it’s ridiculous. Half the school is in love with Lee Donghyuck, doesn’t he have his eye on anyone?” 

_Does he?_

Donghyuck is about to decline, but something distracts him. 

Across the hall, at the farthest table, a Ravenclaw seventh-year is laughing as he pours a first-year a glass of pumpkin juice. The sound echoes, and Donghyuck watches him walk around the table, watches as everyone who walks by shoots him a laugh or a smile… Ravenclaw’s perfect prefect. Donghyuck scoffs at the sight, narrowing his eyes just as the prefect in question spots him staring. He glares back. _God, Donghyuck can’t stand him._

Asking Renjun Huang to the Yule Ball… now _that_ would be ridiculous.

.*•. FIRST YEAR .•*.

Look, it’s not like Donghyuck sets out to make enemies before he even arrives at Hogwarts— it happens by accident.

He’s walking up to the Hogwarts Express, pulling Mark along behind him, his muggle-born best friend completely lost since the moment they entered platform nine and three quarters. Donghyuck’s mother dropped them off together, not sticking around to see them off; the Lee family has more important things to do then send off their last first year and his “mudblood” friend. It’s alright, though. Donghyuck has watched his older siblings enter the platform every year, and he doesn’t need her help— although it took him almost twenty minutes to convince Mark to run through the wall, with Donghyuck finally just pushing his best friend headfirst through the bricks and pulling both of their things in behind him. Now Mark is clinging to his hand, looking around nervously at the other people in the platform, all of the wizarding families and their kids boarding the train. His glasses are slipping off of his nose. They’re way too big for him, Donghyuck thinks. They make Mark look like an owl. 

“C’mon, let’s go get on so we can get a good seat and stop lugging your trunk full of bricks around,” he tells Mark over his shoulder, pulling him up to the steps. The steam from the train’s exhaust swirls at their feet as Donghyuck lifts his trunk up and hoists it onto the train, hopping up and pulling Mark’s things up after him.

Their train car is relatively empty. One carriage is full of girls, already sharing snacks and talking animatedly amongst themselves. Someone’s asleep in the next. In the third carriage, there’s only one person lounging inside: a boy in a very expensive looking sweater, with a black cat curled up in his lap and a luxury leather trunk resting by the window, engraved with the letters _N J M_. 

_Nope_ , he thinks. _Absolutely not_. Donghyuck knows who that is. He is not about to sit with the richest, most entitled kid in the entire wizarding world. He’s ready to grab Mark’s hand and pull him further down the train car to find another empty place for them to sit, but there’s one major problem with having a muggle-born best friend: Mark has no idea who the hell _anyone_ is. So of course, he takes one look at the cat, walks right in, and drops his bags at the feet of Na Jaemin— the Minister of Magic’s only son. 

“Woah. Your cat is so cute! What’s his name?” 

Donghyuck rushes in, reaching for Mark’s arm. They’re going to ruin both of their reputations before the train even leaves the station. He’s about to apologize to Jaemin for bothering him, ready to pull Mark out of there, when Jaemin flashes them both a toothy grin and excitedly answers Mark’s question with the most ridiculous name for a cat that Donghyuck has ever heard:

“Dementor.” Jaemin sits up in his seat. “Hey, you guys want any chocolate frogs? My dad gave me a bunch of candy, but I guess he forgot I’m lactose intolerant.” 

This is apparently all it takes to become friends with the Minister’s son. 

Mark and Donghyuck drop the rest of their stuff in the carriage, sitting opposite Jaemin as they tear open the candy. Mark’s eyes bug out when he finds the wizard trading card inside; he spends the rest of their conversation looking at the moving picture of some notable face while Donghyuck and Jaemin instantly jump into conversation. They open up another chocolate frog somewhere along the way and find a card with Jaemin’s dad on it, cracking up at the coincidence— and as Jaemin breaks into a laugh, his hair suddenly turns from blonde to a vibrant pastel shade of pink.

Mark’s eyes practically fall out of his head. “Woah! How did you just do that?” 

Jaemin blinks. “Do what?”

“Your… your hair…” 

Jaemin laughs. “Oh! What color is it… god, is it green again? I look so ugly when it turns green.”

Turns out, the Minister’s son is not only lactose intolerant, he’s also a metamorphmagus. _Awesome._ Donghyuck has made up his mind: Na Jaemin is his new best friend.

He reaches for another chocolate frog, handing the card over to Mark without even looking at it. The train car is starting to fill up; the last students to board the Hogwarts Express are filing in, bustling down the aisle past their carriage. Many of them sneak a second glance inside when they recognize Jaemin from the paper or wherever else, undoubtedly wondering who his friends are. Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice, turning to Mark and watching him read through the Famous Witches and Wizards cards.

“These names are ridiculous. Are all these people seriously real?” Mark asks, flashing the new card that reads _Key_ and looking up at Jaemin and Donghyuck.

“Huh? Yeah,” Jaemin replies. “That’s a Hogwarts professor, dude. What’s your deal, then? Your family aren’t wizards, huh?”

Mark shakes his head. “Nah. They’re accountants.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, pointing at Donghyuck. “Then how do you know this kid?”

Donghyuck laughs. “We met in primary school. Mark’s been able to use magic longer than I have, actually. He set a fire on the stove in the toy kitchen in kindergarten when we were five. I just assumed his family was magic and started bringing him over after school.”

Mark nods sheepishly. Jaemin snorts. “Your parents were cool with that?”

Donghyuck shakes his head. _God, no._ His father had been less than pleased to find out that he was playing with a muggle-born. Donghyuck thinks it’s stupid, because Mark is a better wizard than he is, but there’s no arguing with the Lee family about the importance of bloodlines.

“Not at all. But I don’t care what my father thinks. He couldn’t get rid of Mark if he tried,” Donghyuck laughs. Outside their carriage, the last passenger to board is struggling to push a trunk that’s larger than he is down the aisle as the doors to the train close behind him. Donghyuck continues venting to Jaemin about his father’s old fashioned wizarding views. “He always talks about purity and bloodlines, but he doesn’t have any idea what he’s saying. Honestly, he should be scared of this mudblood.” 

All of a sudden, Donghyuck is hit in the side of the head by what he’s fairly sure is a licorice wand.

“You can’t call people _mudbloods_ , you asshole!” 

Donghyuck turns in the direction of the candy attacker. There’s a boy standing in their doorway, gripping the handle of his trunk, eyebrows knit and glaring at Donghyuck and Jaemin. Mostly at Donghyuck. He’s short, with frizzy ash hair and a jumper that’s a little too big in the sleeves curled over his fists. 

Jaemin narrows his eyes. “And you can’t just call people _asshole_ , asshole. We weren’t talking to you. What’s your problem?” 

“You,” the boy replies, cheeks turning red as he points at Donghyuck. “Him. He shouldn’t have said that.” 

“Hey,” Donghyuck protests. “It was a joke—”

“Well, it wasn’t very funny.” The boy scrunches his nose. “You should watch what you say. You don’t have to be a pureblood brat like yourself to be a powerful wizard. I bet a _mudblood_ could beat you in a duel any day.” 

“I bet they couldn’t,” Donghyuck replies, not thinking, just plowing into defense mode as he whips out his wand. He’s a Lee. _He won’t let his family down before they even arrive._ Who does this guy think he is? “Nobody can beat me,” he warns, sticking the brand-new oak wand he’s quite proud of in front of the boy’s face. 

Mark grabs his arm. “Leave him alone, Hyuckie,” he whispers. “C’mon. I don’t wanna get in trouble before we even get to the castle!” 

Donghyuck sighs, lowering the wand hesitantly, if only to appease Mark. The boy just sniffs angrily, still glaring at Donghyuck. “You’re wrong. I’m gonna be a better wizard than you’ll ever be,” he says, giving his trunk an angry shove and turning on his heel, disappearing down the aisle. 

Oh. _Oh._

Donghyuck doesn’t mean to make an enemy before he even gets to Hogwarts, but by the time he puts it together, it’s too late to apologize— the muggle-born boy with the sharp tongue is already gone. 

.*•.•*.

Donghyuck has _just_ collapsed onto his bunk when a frantic tapping at the door interrupts his brief moment of peace.

“Agh,” Jaemin complains, leaning against the wall across the room, all of his trunks strewn across the floor half-unpacked. He glances over at the door frame, tilting his head. “Looks like one of us has mail.”

“We got here all of five minutes ago, who the hell is sending us something by post,” Donghyuck groans, rolling over to face the door. A singular piece of paper has been slipped under the door frame, stamped with the Headmistress’s signature.

_Oh._

He rolls out of bed, but Jaemin beats him to it.

“Accio,” he calls, flicking his wand just in time to snatch the letter from Donghyuck’s fingertips.

“Jaem,” he insists. “Is it—” He bites his tongue. If it’s what he thinks it is...

“Don’t worry, it’s quite dry,” Jaemin insists, eyes glossing over the details of the paper. “Junk mail.”

“Funny. What’s it say,” Donghyuck sighs, leaning against the wall. 

Jaemin looks up at him over the top of the piece of parchment. He wiggles it in the air, switching to a ridiculous accent. “Lee Donghyuck! Congratulations on being selected as Head Boy of Slytherin House! Your presence is requi—”

“You’re shitting me,” Donghyuck interrupts.

“Your presence is required in Headmistress Irene’s office—”

“No way. It’s you! Jaem, you’re lying. Give me the letter.”

“Not lying— let me finish! Your presence is required in Headmistress Irene’s office at eight p.m. sharp to receive your robes and your badge. Do not be late. The Headmistress and your Head of House look forward to working with you!”

Jaemin grins at him. Donghyuck just stares, mouth open like he’s been petrified. 

“Accio,” he says, and Jaemin releases the letter with a grin, letting it flutter into Donghyuck’s hand, and it’s not bullshit— Jaemin was being serious. 

_Donghyuck made Slytherin Head Boy._

“Congratulations,” Jaemin grins. “You’ve been bestowed a stick up your ass!” 

“I can’t believe it,” Donghyuck laughs, setting the paper to the side as he sinks back down the bed. “I was positive they were going to pick you. I mean, you’re team captain, after all, and you scored higher on most of the O.W.L.s than I did.” 

“Nah,” Jaemin sighs, waving a hand, completely unbothered. “You can’t put the minister’s son in charge of anything these days without being accused of nepotism. Besides, Irene has always liked you better than she likes me— ever since you blew up that cursed statue in the Great Hall back in third year. She doesn’t care about the O.W.L.s. You’re more her style.”

“What, I’m chaotic?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“You’re dangerous,” Jaemin laughs. “Also, you’re late. It’s five minutes to eight.”

“Shit.” Donghyuck jumps to his feet, swinging his outer robe over his shoulders. “This is— wow. She really didn’t give us much time for celebration, huh?”

“Nah, you’re all business now, Head Boy,” Jaemin grins. “You know, maybe they gave you the spot just to punish you for enjoying yourself too much.” 

“Don’t worry, they’re never going to turn me into a role model,” Donghyuck snorts, reaching for his boots as he makes his way to the door.

“Hey, speaking of that— who else do you think they picked?” Jaemin calls. “Are we about to run the school?”

“I’ll let you know,” Donghyuck replies, ducking out of the way as the door slams shut behind him.

It’s a miracle that he’s not late, honestly— he owes it to the secret passage behind the painting of the platinum blonde guy without a mouth and his friend without a nose on the second floor. It spits him out right down the corridor from the doorway to Irene’s office, and he reaches for the door knocker with thirty seconds to spare.

“I’ll get it,” calls a muffled voice from inside, and the door swings open to reveal a mess of black hair with a pair of oversized glasses, who immediately breaks into a grin.

“Donghyuck?” Mark laughs.

“Mark Lee,” Donghyuck grins. “Well well well… fancy seeing you here!”

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Mark is something of a prodigy. A natural ace, always has been, and beyond that, a natural leader; an obvious choice. Donghyuck pulls him in for a quick hug. 

“I was wondering who Irene would pick,” Mark says, beaming, as he pulls away to lead him down the short passage. “I’m so glad it’s you!”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t going to be Yangyang,” Donghyuck snorts.

 _“Mark, who is it?”_ A voice echoes from around the corner. Donghyuck feels his jaw clench on impulse. 

Of course. It shouldn’t throw him off, because it’s exactly what he was expecting, but still it does. 

As he steps into the room, he’s met with the faces of the six remaining prefects selected by the Headmistress: fellow Slytherin Jung Eunwoo— he’s not surprised by that one, she’s practically a miniature Irene; Jeno— oh, the first years are going to adore him— and Kang Yaebin from Hufflepuff; Gryffindor’s Jeon Heejin; and, ironically, Heejin’s girlfriend Jinsol from Ravenclaw.

And then, of course, there’s Renjun. There’s _always_ Renjun. Donghyuck wonders if it's a curse, the way every step he takes, Renjun is a step ahead.

.*•. FIRST YEAR.•*.

The boy from the train is a Ravenclaw. 

His name is Renjun. Donghyuck recognizes him instantly when he gets up on the stool. He’s not too surprised, but he’s mildly disappointed to hear the sorting hat call out something other than Slytherin. Maybe if Renjun was in their house, it would be easy to apologize to him for what happened on the train, but the chances of Donghyuck ending up anywhere but Slytherin are slim to none. He watches as Renjun jumps up excitedly, running over to the Ravenclaw table and sitting next to a girl with long blonde hair and big blue eyes who gives him a hug. 

Next to him, Mark shifts nervously back and forth on the bench. Jaemin leans back, relaxed. 

“Ravenclaw. _Shocking_. I could do that hat’s job,” he whispers under his breath. “Looks like he won’t be getting in our faces anymore, Donghyuck.” 

Jaemin and Donghyuck both know where they’re headed. Being a Slytherin isn’t an option when you come from families like theirs, it’s just the way it is. It runs in the family, or at least, if you want to remain in the family, you run with it. 

Mark, on the other hand, is an enigma. Donghyuck has tried to ignore the fact that he might not be headed in the same direction as his best friend of over five years, but it’s impossible to ignore as the line of other first years in front of them grows shorter by the minute. He looks over at Mark and Mark smiles back at him, lip quivering. 

“Where do you guys think I’ll be?” Mark asks quietly. “Do you think I’ll be in there too?”

Jaemin wrinkles his nose. “Ravenclaw? Nah. You’re too nice,” he laughs, but he switches to a more sincere tone. “No, I’m just kidding. Wherever you end up, Mark, it’ll be where you belong. That’s the whole point of this stuff. Alright? Don’t worry about it.” He smiles warmly. His bubblegum hair turns a bit peachy, just for a second. 

Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t matter what the hat says. Even if we’re in different houses, we’ll still be best friends. I promise.”

Mark nods. “Promise.” He wipes at his eye a little when their hands disconnect, but Donghyuck pretends not to notice. 

Jaemin is next. He smiles as the hat falls over his head and the hall goes quiet, everyone awaiting the inevitable placement of the Minister’s eldest son: 

“ _SLYTHERIN!_ ” the hat declares the second it grazes his strawberry hair. Jaemin grins, pulling the hat off and slipping off of the stool, sending a wink in Donghyuck’s direction as he takes his place at the Slytherin table amongst the other kids. 

“ _LEE DONGHYUCK_.” 

The hat summons him immediately afterwards. Donghyuck stands up from the bench, trying not to let his knees shake as he makes his way over to the stool. Why is he nervous? He knows exactly what the hat will say… or he thinks he does. But what if he’s wrong? What if he’s the first member of the Lee family tree to fail to make it into his family’s house? The anxiety pools in his stomach as he sits down and someone slips the sorting hat onto his head. 

The room goes quiet, and all of a sudden, there’s a voice in his head that doesn’t belong to him.

 _Lee Donghyuck_ , the hat echoes. _Ambitious, determined, competitive…. Curious._

“What’s curious?” he whispers.

 _Just… well, we can rule out Gryffindor, that’s for certain._ The hat almost chuckles, if hats can do that. Donghyuck frowns. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s taking so long? Just sort me already.” He’s a Slytherin, he has to be, and the hat must know it too, so why is it still debating? Donghyuck’s stomach churns. If he’s a Hufflepuff or something, his mother will murder him first and disown him second. 

_A Slytherin? If you insist... You do know what you want, or what you’re meant to want,_ replies the hat. _But remember, Lee Donghyuck, you always have a choice, if you’d like it._

“No I don’t.” Donghyuck shakes his head. “I don’t have a choice at all.”

 _Well, you did. But you just made it,_ the hat chimes. _Congratulations._

Donghyuck hears the hat both in his mind and in his ears as it bellows his future through the halls:

_“SLYTHERIN!”_

He stands up, relief washing over him as he joins Jaemin at the table. His table. 

Thank Merlin he’s not an immediate failure to his family; his first nightmare is now in the clear. He sits down, hiding his shaking hands below the table as the hat continues sorting.

A boy named Lee Jeno is the first boy to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Two girls join the slytherin table, a blonde with sharp eyes like a cat called Eunwoo and a girl named Hyejoo who insists they call her Olivia. Some giant kid Yukhei is a Gryffindor. Another boy joins them at the Slytherin table, a redhead with a scar on his cheek called Yangyang who Donghyuck is nervous to sit next to, followed by an equally intimidating girl named Ryujin; and then the sorting hat calls Mark. Donghyuck bites his lip. Maybe...

He hopes, for a second, that they’ll be together. But in his heart, Donghyuck knows the truth. Mark Lee is not a Slytherin. His best friend is a tough, chivalrous, hardworking, stupidly headstrong...

“ _GRYFFINDOR!_ ” 

Mark looks panicked as he walks over to join the first years already at his table, Yukhei clapping him on the arm as a pretty girl, Donghyuck thinks her name was Heejin, scoots over so Mark can sit down. He turns around and briefly glances at the Slytherin table, looking to Donghyuck hopefully. Donghyuck flashes him a grin, and Mark grins back, eyes revealing his relief at his best friend’s approval as he lets his new friends pull him into their conversation and help him to the food. 

This is it. They’ve all been sorted now. It’s done— their fates for the next seven years have been decided by the raggedy hat on a stool. 

Despite the desire to befriend his new housemates, Donghyuck’s eyes keep drifting over to the other tables, wondering what the sorting hat meant when it told him that he had a choice, _if he wanted it._ What else is there to want, when you’re in his place? If he hadn’t wished for this, where would he be? His eyes land one last time on the boy from the train at the Ravenclaw table, and Donghyuck is envious of someone like him; someone who has a _real_ choice in who they want to become.

.*•.•*.

If it weren’t for his friends, Donghyuck would be done with his homework by now. Really, even in the library, it’s incredible how incapable the lot of them are when it comes to the art of concentration. 

Other than Renjun, that is, if you want to call them friends. The sole Ravenclaw amongst their study group has an uncanny ability for tuning out stupidity, which Donghyuck supposes comes with the job. Right now, he’s on his sixth sheet of parchment, doing what looks like Arithmancy as a rate that nobody should physically be able to complete arithmancy. He’s sitting at the other side of the table, next to Jeno, while Donghyuck is nestled between the latest useless debate between Jaemin and Yangyang, an argument that began over Jaemin's discovery of some figures on an old map. 

“I’m telling you,” Jaemin insists. “My Herbology professor is sleeping with Professor Kim.”

 _“Professor Kim?”_ Yangyang nearly chokes on his one of his every-flavor beans, which he is really not supposed to be eating in the library, but it’s not like him to abide by any of the policies this school has to offer. “There’s no way in hell Professor Kim is getting it.” 

“No, he’s got a point,” Mark juts in, pushing his glasses up the tip of his nose with his wand as he flips the page of his Muggle Studies textbook. Why Mark Lee is taking N.E.W.T. level muggle studies is beyond explanation. “Jaem and I have Herbology together, and Doyoung always comes in to get stuff for ‘his potions stores’. You should see the way Professor Jung talks to him— they way they get on, it’s weird. I’ve never seen Professor Kim flustered.”

Jeno laughs, flipping his own textbook shut to get in on the conversation. “Who knows— maybe they’ll turn up to the _ball_ together.”

Yangyang snorts so loudly that it echoes a little.

Renjun looks up for the first time since they’ve arrived. “Quiet,” he whispers. “Some of us actually have shit to do.” 

Donghyuck represses the urge to roll his eyes. Just because he and Renjun, by some twist of fate, have ended up with the same friends does not mean that Donghyuck enjoys his presence. Even as a friend, Renjun doesn’t waste an opportunity to get on Donghyuck’s nerves. 

“Sorry,” Jeno whispers back. 

“How _do_ you have so much shit to do, exactly?” Donghyuck sighs, once again giving into the chronic temptation to argue with Renjun. It’s one of his favorite pastimes. “We’ve been in class for three days!”

Mark suppresses his laughter, ducking back behind his book to avoid Renjun’s disappointed glare.

“You should have work too,” Renjun insists. “We’re in the same classes, Donghyuck.” 

“Maybe I’ve already finished mine!”

“Doubtful.”

“Oh, fu—”

“Donghyuck!” Jeno hisses, eyes widening. He sighs. “Both of you. _Please._ If you want it quiet, then maybe don’t yell at each other.” 

Donghyuck narrows his eyes. Renjun glares back at him, before grabbing his quill in annoyance and turning back to his paper. Even the way it scratches the paper is rhythmic, meticulous, perfect. Donghyuck stares at the quill, willing Renjun to just make one single mistake. 

After maybe five solid minutes of silence, Jaemin speaks up again, clearly desperate to avoid doing any of his work.

“Speaking of the whole Yule Ball situation,” he says, “Who do you guys think is going to be the first to get a date?”

“Easy,” Donghyuck replies. “It’ll be me.”

“Wow, somebody’s confident,” Jaemin replies. “Who are you planning on asking, exactly, you absolute magnet?”

Renjun stills, quill hovering in midair. A drop of black ink falls, splattering onto the center of his parchment. 

“I’m not telling you,” Donghyuck lies. He doesn't have the slightest idea, but he's committed to the bluff. “You’ll just ask them first to piss me off.”

“Me? I would never,” Jaemin jokes, in a voice that suggests that he very much would do exactly what Donghyuck just said. “I actually have someone in mind myself.”

“Oh, really? I don’t suppose you’ll say who, either,” Donghyuck teases. Jaemin loves playing games, and Donghyuck has gotten good at playing them too.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Jaemin smirks. 

“Exactly what I thought.” Donghyuck picks up his quill again. “I was joking, by the way. I have no idea who I’m going to ask. I don’t even think I want to go at all.”

Renjun relaxes, and seems to finally realize that his ink is dripping. He drops the quill, glancing down in horror at the stain on his homework. 

Yangyang kicks his feet up. “I’ll tell you who I’m going to ask,” he says.

“We already know,” Donghyuck laughs. “It’s Dejun.”

“And he is _absolutely_ going to say no,” Jaemin adds. “Don’t even try it.”

.*•. SECOND YEAR .•*.

Renjun keeps his word. A year later, and he still doesn't seem to have forgiven Donghyuck for the incident on the train. If anything, he seems more insistent on showing him up, and Donghyuck is beginning to realize that if he wants to be the best wizard at Hogwarts, it isn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped. 

Just because success comes naturally to the Lee family does not mean that it comes naturally to Donghyuck— in fact, nothing seems to come naturally to him. Not like it comes to Renjun, who despite his snotty nosed and snaggletoothed appearance, is a natural. Donghyuck gets his ass kicked in Defense Against the Dark Arts, his potions teacher likes Renjun better than the members of his own house, and now even on the Quidditch field for broomstick lessons, Donghyuck is accepting his defeat sprawled on the ground; he lost his grip, and now Mark is wiping the dirt from his knees while their instructor praises Renjun for his speed. 

"You have talent. Keep it up and you could play for the Quidditch League someday, you know," Coach Nakamoto remarks with a smile. "Have you thought about that?"

"Oh, no thank you," Renjun says, with the utmost severity, looking the coach in the eye. "I'm going to be an Auror."

  
  


.*•.•*.

Donghyuck has never doubted his commitment to becoming an auror until he’s forced to enroll in N.E.W.T. level History of Magic. 

This class has got to be, without a doubt, something that could legally be used as a form of torture. Only one week into the course, Donghyuck has found himself buried in notes about healing draughts from the 1400s. He has had to read about so many various failed attempts to develop the polyjuice potion that at this point, he would rather ingest one of them himself and risk being stuck with a boar’s head forever than turn another page of his textbook. 

There’s only one other person he knows who is insane enough to take this class by their own free will.

Renjun is an enigma. He seems to actually _enjoy_ it here. He raises his hand for all of Professor Kun’s questions, and not even in a know-it-all sort of way— more like he seems to feel bad that nobody else is doing it. Either way, he knows all the answers. Donghyuck hates that. He always has— there’s something about Renjun’s effortless display of talent that has always driven him insane, and Renjun really hasn’t changed much. He’s more mature, and a bit more confident when he speaks, but as Donghyuck watches him answer question after question about the most useless, mundane facts, it’s like watching the same snaggletoothed frizzy-haired grievance that drove him insane for the first few years of his academic career— with once crucial exception. 

The Renjun Huang who sits in front of him is cruelly, unfairly, _devastatingly_ hot. 

Maybe the mold in this tower is finally infecting Donghyuck’s mind, or maybe it’s the absolute boredom of spending sixty minutes listening to a man older than dirt read from a textbook with a thousand pages, but once he notices it, he can’t stop thinking about it. 

It’s so unfair. 

It would be a very Donghyuck thing to do, to realize that he might be a little bit attracted to the sole person he has dedicated his life to hating. It would also be embarrassing, because Renjun is his rival, and Donghyuck knows for a fact that Renjun hates his guts, and would never waste a second returning this line of thinking… right? 

No, Renjun has to hate him. There’s no other explanation to why he insists on getting on Donghyuck’s nerves, even though he gets along with Jeno and Jaemin and the rest of them just fine. They’re friends, although admittedly not very functional ones, but Donghyuck has made a career out of pissing him off since they were kids. Even in the past few years, Donghyuck has still made it a point to be an asshole. Because that’s what you do when you have a rival— you _compete_ with them. You work to outdo them. You certainly do not stare at the back of their head for sixty minutes admiring their curls.

Donghyuck shakes his head, unwilling to entertain that line of thinking for more than a second. The mold up here must seriously be getting to his brain.

.*•. FIFTH YEAR .*.•.

The practice potions O.W.L. isn’t really supposed to be a competition, but Donghyuck always performs better when there’s something to win, so when Professor Kim drops the hint that anyone who manages to brew a draught of polyjuice potion will win 50 house points, he is not about to back down from the challenge. 

They’re paired up, prefects of each house together. Mark and Heejin are discussing ingredients to their right, and off to their left, Jeno has let Yaebin take over. Renjun and Jinsol are already gathering flowers from the table up front. Donghyuck, having made up his mind, immediately moves to pluck a hair from his own head when his table mate smacks him on the wrist.

“Are you kidding? We are _so_ not doing that,” Eunwoo hisses. “Polyjuice isn’t even on the real O.W.L., Hyuck! We should just brew Alihotsy or the Draught of Living Death so we can practice for the exam.” She leans over, lowering her voice. “Look over there. Renjun and Jinsoul are already getting fluxweed. He must have had the same idea, but we all know which of you two is Doyoung’s favorite. If we’re gonna lose the points anyways, let’s at least make something useful.” 

Eunwoo is trying to be logical, but logic has never worked on him when it comes to competing with Ravenclaw. Knowing that Renjun is going for the house points just makes Donghyuck want to win _more_. He narrows his eyes, glancing around the classroom at the supplies on the front table, the beginnings of a plan already forming in his head.

“We can beat them,” Donghyuck insists. He meets Eunwoo’s glare, flashing her a loaded smile. “Look… If they _really_ mess it up, there’s no way Doyoung can give them the points.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get Huang Renjun to mess up?”

“I have a talent for it. Just, when we go to grab our supplies... see if you can swap the powdered bicorn horn and the powdered moonstone.” 

Eunwoo lets out a shallow laugh. “You wanna sabotage them? Hm. Moonstone, that’s gonna make…” she blinks, trailing off in thought, and then sighs. “Shit, I have no idea. Screw it! I’m game. I’m gonna fail this evaluation regardless, so I might as well have some fun with the practice round.” She clicks her nails against the edge of the cauldron as she stands up, looking over her shoulder at Donghyuck. “But I’m not gonna do the dirty work. I’ll be over here doing the honest potion brewing, you can go do the sabatogey bits yourself.”

Donghyuck grins. “Fair enough.” 

They head over to the supply table, Eunwoo carefully gathering fluxweed and knotgrass and boomslang skin, while Donghyuck gathers the lacewing flies, leeches, and makes his way over to the edge of the table, where the powdered ingredients are resting in their respective jars. Eunwoo stalls the Ravenclaws by the herbs before they can make it any further. Donghyuck glances around, making sure that he’s out of Professor Kim’s line of sight, and slips his wand out of his sleeve.

 _“Restituo,”_ he whispers, and he suppresses a smirk as he watches the label for powdered bicorn horn swap itself with the label for powdered moonstone. Eunwoo slips over, peering down at the jars.

“Nice.” She lowers her voice. “Be careful— they’re coming.”

Donghyuck nods. If Renjun sees him picking something up from the wrong jar, he’ll be suspicious— he knows Donghyuck isn’t that stupid. He confidently pours the powder out from the wrong jar and places it back on the table, returning the jar to the table only for a second before Jinsoul grabs it. Donghyuck turns his back and slips back to the table to join Eunwoo.

“Okay, now don’t you dare put that moonstone in here. I snuck some of the actual powder earlier, it’s in my pocket. Go throw that out or you’ll turn this shit into amortentia in three seconds.” 

He doesn’t remember what amormentia is, but he’s not going to admit that to Eunwoo. 

They work carefully for the next hour, taking turns stirring their cauldron and sprinkling in the ingredients. Donghyuck is almost starting to worry that Renjun has somehow still managed to get it right until Jinsoul’s voice cuts through the quiet clamor of the dungeon. 

The faint smell of sunflowers wafts through the air.

“Ah, Injun... I may not know the recipe as well as you do, but I’m pretty sure polyjuice potion isn’t supposed to be… sparkly?” 

Donghyuck glances over just in time to watch as Renjun whips around, eyes widening in horror at his own cauldron. 

_“What?”_

He turns slowly, the gold and pink sparkling mixture bubbling below, locking his eyes on Donghyuck and Eunwoo with a knowing glare, and as the sunflower scent intensifies, Donghyuck finally recalls that amortentia is a love potion. 

.*•.•*. 

The wind whirls through the courtyard, bringing the autumn air with it. It’s crisp, sending a shiver down Donghyuck’s spine as he leans against the brick wall with the vines and watches the leaves whirl around the garden.

Jeno sits next to him, Renjun on his other side. They’re waiting for Mark to arrive so they can head to Hogsmeade for the evening, their first weekend outing of the year. Jaemin and Yangyang are already there, something about needing to stock up on “school supplies”, which may sound innocent, but Donghyuck is positive means investing in explosive items and candy with potentially dangerous side effects. Donghyuck shuffles his feet back and forth, checking his pocketwatch for the time. It's always tense, him and Renjun hanging around each other. They're both very aware that they rely on Jeno to keep the conversation up, both unable to make any attempt at small talk that doesn't end in a four letter word and a minor threat. It's awkward. Where the hell is Mark?

“He’s late,” Renjun complains, tucking his arms closer to his chest. He looks cold. He should have brought a warmer coat, he’s just wearing his class robes… his brain must not get a lot of use outside of the library, huh. Donghyuck would usually mention all of that out loud, but for some reason, he bites his tongue, the sight of Renjun shivering making his chest twinge.

“Renjun? Is that you?”

A voice comes from behind them. Donghyuck, Renjun and Jeno turn in unison, and Donghyuck is taken aback to find a pretty girl with her hair in a neat ponytail, a book tucked under one arm. 

It’s Lia, a Gryffindor sixth year. Off to the side, Donghyuck recognizes a small group of girls gathered by the oak tree watching her; Chaeryeong, Yuna, and Slytherin’s own Ryujin. 

At this moment, Mark finally decides to appear, turning the corner but slowing as he spots the small crowd, raising an eyebrow as he approaches Donghyuck. Donghyuck just shrugs.

“Lia— hi. Can I help you with anything?” Renjun looks a bit nervous. The tip of his nose is red, Donghyuck notices, bitten by the wind.

“Ah, well…” She trails off, twirling a strand of hair around her fingertip. “Actually. I was just wondering… do you happen to have a date to the Yule Ball?”

She smiles at him. Mark’s jaw drops. Jeno grins, turning expectantly to Renjun. They must have suspected that someone was going to ask him soon. Donghyuck tries to ignore the way that he defaults to irritation, a tight feeling in his chest. Watching Renjun get asked out... it shouldn’t bother him. This doesn’t matter. So what, Rejun’s going to get a date before Donghyuck does, that doesn’t have any effect on their real lives, so why does it feel so… dejecting? He tries to brush it off, but then Renjun answers, and it's enough to catch Donghyuck off guard.

“Ah— I’m sorry,” Renjun says, “I’m actually not looking for a date.”

Lia’s mouth drops, forming an ‘O’. Jeno gives Renjun the side eye, as if to ask, _What the hell are you doing? You are absolutely looking for a date, you fool!_

“I— okay. Sorry to bother you,” she stammers, ducking her head and rushing back over to her friends. Ryujin looks over her shoulder, sending Renjun a cold glare, before following Lia and the others out of the garden.

“What are you doing?” Jeno hisses, exasperated. “You _do_ need a date, Renjun. Why would you turn her down?”

“I don't know. I don’t want to go with her,” Renjun replies stiffly, looking down at his shoes. 

Weirdly enough, Donghyuck feels the weight vanish from his chest. They stand there for a moment in silence, waiting for a further explanation, but Renjun just kicks at a stone on the ground, tugging his sleeves down to cover his hands. 

“Damn,” Mark whistles. “That’s kinda cold, but you don’t have to worry about it too much, huh? You can ask whoever you want. You’re charming like that. All you do have to do is smile at people and they fall head over heels.”

"My smile, huh?" Renjun looks back up, rolling his eyes. “Well, in that case, I owe all of my romantic success to Donghyuck,” he says with a bitter laugh. 

God, all these years later and he’s _still_ mad about that?

Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. “For the last time, Renjun, that one was _actually_ an accident.” 

.*•. THIRD YEAR .*.•.

God, the Slytherin beaters may be his best friends, but even Donghyuck has to admit they’re fucking useless. 

“Yangyang!” he calls, voice straining over the heavy wind. The skies are clear, but the October air is crisp, sharp, and filled with force. Donghyuck tightens his grip, steadying himself as another gust threatens to knock him from his broom. He would never admit it, but he’s honestly not the best flier— he tried out as Keeper for a reason. High-speed flying is not exactly his, well, speed… there’s no way in hell Donghyuck was going to let his friends join the team before him, though. No way. 

Yangyang whips around, fiery hair gleaming in the sunlight. It ripples like the tendrils of a literal flame as it blows in the wind. “What?” he calls back, and even from a distance, Donghyuck can see the face he’s making with his eyebrows. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, gesturing to both Yangyang and Jaemin. “You two have one job: hit people. How hard can it be?”

“I am hitting people,” Yangyang argues.

“You’re hitting _Dejun,_ ” Donghyuck sighs. “Like, every time. I am begging you to hit literally anyone else. Their chasers are kicking my ass and you guys are just running around bullying the seeker!”

Jaemin turns around, flashing Donghyuck his signature grin. “What, you can’t hold your own against Huang?”

“Shut up and do your job,” he bristles. 

Jaemin turns back around, but even over the wind, Donghyuck can hear his stupid laugh. He tosses the bludger to Yangyang and they take off, opting to torment the chaser, Jinsol.

It works for a while. Jaemin nearly knocks her off her broom, manages to distract Minkyung too out of concern, but as usual, the beaters’ usefulness doesn’t last very long. Miraculously, the Slytherin chasers have managed to keep the quaffle occupied in a scuffle by the Ravenclaw goalposts, and the thirty seconds of boredom were enough for Jaemin and Yangyang to abandon their positions again; Yangyang darts off back on Dejun’s tail with a smirk, and Jaemin decides it’s in his job description to get in on the offense, flying right up to the goalposts and buzzing around poor Jisung Park like a mosquito. 

It would almost be funny, if they weren’t still losing. Badly. If their chasers could manage to land a play, and they could keep the quaffle in the Ravenclaw end for more than a minute or two, this would all be fun and games. But that’s not what’s happening. What’s happening is that while Jaemin is busy being completely useless and Yangyang has vanished from the field entirely in lieu of his favorite seeker, Olivia fumbles a pass and someone snatches the quaffle from under her fingertips. 

Just like that, Renjun is on a breakaway, and nothing stands between him and Donghyuck except for a hundred meters of open air. 

_Shit._

Unlike Donghyuck, Renjun Huang is very good at flying. He’s a borderline showoff, but to his credit, all Ravenclaws are. They all seem to adopt a uselessly fancy flying style, dodging and darting with the precision of a hummingbird. The Slytherin flying style is usually more direct, which is why the Ravenclaws are their most frustrating match— it’s like a game of cat and mouse in the sky. 

Renjun slips past Olivia with the quaffle tucked under his elbow, maneuvering one-handedly around the other Slytherin chasers with ease, emerging from the mess at the Ravenclaw goalposts like a missile. Jaemin snatches up one of the bludgers and aims it, but he’s too far away to get a hit in. The bludger sails off into the stands, causing a panic as it collides in a near miss with some poor Gryffindor’s skull. Renjun is picking up speed so fast that Donghyuck barely has time to register what’s happening— seriously, he has to be the fastest chaser the school has seen in years. 

It makes no sense, Donghyuck thinks. Why wouldn’t they make him the seeker? If he were, this game would be over already. Dejun is good, sure, but with Renjun’s speed, size, and agility, he could literally _be_ the snitch. Nobody can catch him.

And nobody does.

Just as Donghyuck is about to resign himself and take the loss of a shot he’s _sure_ he can’t block, he sees it— a flash of gold that whips past his temple. 

_The snitch._

It’s like the world around him has been plunged into slow motion. Either his adrenaline is finally kicking in or someone has cursed everyone on the field into some sort of time warp. Donghyuck inhales, tightening his grip on his broom as the wind rushes in his ears.

Renjun is crossing into the end zone, raising the quaffle in preparation to strike. The snitch darts past him, distracting the chaser enough to turn him around momentarily as he realizes what just flew past him, watching as it takes a shimmering nosedive towards the field below.

“Dejun!” Renjun calls, turning to alert his seeker— but there are two seekers on the field, and he’s caught the attention of the wrong one. A streak of blonde whirls around from high above them. Jung Eunwoo tips her broom towards the ground, pausing just long enough to glance at the scoreboard before she dives. 

_RAVENCLAW 240 - SLYTHERIN 95_

The math hits Donghyuck faster than any equation on his Arithmancy homework ever has. _145 points._ Eunwoo is going to catch the snitch, and it’s going to end the game. If the numbers don’t change, Slytherin is about to win. But if Renjun takes the shot… 

He can see it in Renjun’s eyes. One shot to win or lose the game. It doesn’t really come down to the snitch at all— it comes down to who will win between the two of them. Ten points. Renjun narrows his eyes, still paused in front of the goal posts, fifty meters out. 

Eunwoo is halfway to the ground. Dejun is on her trail, but it’s no use; to Yangyang’s eternal credit, he’s still following the seeker, swerving around him and slowing him down. He’s not going to catch up. As soon as Eunwoo catches it, the whistle will blow. 

It’s an easy shot. Renjun takes it. 

He should have made it— he really should have. It’s a perfect throw, no less than Donghyuck would expect from someone like him; the sort of throw that’s impossible to predict, one that fools you and takes a curve at the last second. The quaffle whirls towards the hoop, and Donghyuck should have missed it, really. He would never have _predicted_ Renjun to hit a low curve. Nobody blocks a shot that good, especially not himself. It’s just that, well, it’s _windy_ out today. And Donghyuck, after all, has never been the best flier.

A gust shakes the field stronger than any they’ve felt all match. It comes out of nowhere, just as Donghyuck dives to block the shot. He loses his grip on his broom as the force of the wind threatens to tear the handle from his grip, slipping treacherously and panicking as he throws his body weight to the side in a last ditch attempt to stay upright… 

… and kicks the quaffle directly into Renjun’s face.

The whistle is blowing, the fans are cheering, the Slytherin stands are erupting in cheer as the scoreboard lights up, and the rest of the team has flocked to Eunwoo to celebrate their victory, but Donghyuck is frozen in midair, staring in horror at the sight in front of him.

Renjun, somehow still in the air as a testament to his incredible flying skill, is a bloody mess. He’s got one hand on the handle of his broom and the other plastered over his mouth. The pattern of the quaffle is imprinted onto his face. Donghyuck can see blood dripping through his fingers as he shakily pulls his hand away, lips parted to reveal a large bloody hole where his front teeth should be.

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck says, like an idiot. He should move to help, he should say something, but he’s frozen. Below them, the rest of their teams seem to have realized that something is going on, the bloody quaffle lying somewhere on the ground below them and the two of them still hovering in front of the goalposts. “Renjun—”

He doesn’t get the chance to apologize. Renjun blinks at him, eyes hardening as a tear spills over his cheeks. As fast as always, he blows straight past Donghyuck and flies away.

.*•. FOURTH YEAR .•*.

Donghyuck emptied his allowance for the entire year from the Gringrott’s vault for this, and it was absolutely worth it.

He tears open the packaging right at the table in the middle of the Great Hall, with Yangyang, Mark and Jaemin crowding around him. The package takes up practically the entire table. It only took three days after he ordered it for it to arrive, but still, it feels like he’s been waiting for a year. 

He peels away the last layer of paper to reveal his new prized possession: the brand new Firebolt V.

Mark’s mouth falls open. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “I never thought I’d see one of these in person. This is like, _World Cup grade,_ Hyuck.” Mark is such a World Cup fan. He doesn’t care about Muggle sports whatsoever, but Wizarding sports? The kid is a Quidditch League superfan. 

Jaemin smirks, looking extremely pleased. “Nothing’s getting past our keeper this year as long as he’s on that thing,” he laughs. “Get ready to win the house cup, boys!”

“I haven’t even tested it out yet, calm down.” Donghyuck shakes his friends off, pulling the shining new broom off the table and standing up, drawing the attention of the other tables as people are finishing up their breakfast as he swings it over his shoulder. “Save the compliments for later when you guys see me on the field.”

It took many long summer hours, a few perilous falls, and one incident that required some minor skele-gro, but Donghyuck has put his blood, sweat and tears into _earning_ this broom. 

He has never had anything to prove to his friends when it comes to his flying skills, he knows that, but being able to make sure what happened last year would never happen again was something that Donghyuck needed to prove to _himself._ The only thing that’s been holding him back from being the best player on the field and the best Keeper the school has ever seen have been his own stupid inhibitions. With the help of one willing Mark, staying with him at the Lee family estate over the vacation, Donghyuck spent the entire summer in the air. The hours under the summer sun soaring through the sky have left him bruised, battered, and tanned like he hasn’t been since he was a little kid, but Donghyuck feels great. Confident. Jaemin is right, nothing is getting past him on the Firebolt— but it’s not because of the fancy model with the polished handle. It’s because Donghyuck _earned_ it. 

“Bet I can still knock your ass out of the sky with one bludger,” Yangyang insists with an eye roll. 

“Dude. We’re on the same team. Save the bludgers for Huang.”

“Why? You scared your expensive new toy isn’t enough to block my shots, golden boy?” 

The voice that cuts in from behind him catches Donghyuck off-guard. In front of him, Jaemin is repressing another smirk, and Mark has averted his gaze, suddenly very focused on his glass of pumpkin juice. Donghyuck turns around to find himself nose to nose with nobody else but his least favorite Ravenclaw chaser.

Renjun Huang gives him a generous glare, glancing down at the Firebolt in his hand. “Compensating much?”

He looks different. Donghyuck can’t put his finger on it— maybe he’s taller? They’ve all gotten taller over the summer, especially Jeno. But that’s not it. It’s a lot of things— his hair isn’t so frizzy, he doesn’t look quite so scrawny— but when he parts his lips in preparation to land another insult, Donghyuck realizes what it is. 

It’s his _teeth._

Renjun’s snaggletooth is gone. Well, of course it is, Donghyuck knocked it out of his face. But it’s not the fact that it’s gone, it’s what it’s been replaced by— Renjun came back with the most dazzling smile that Donghyuck has ever seen, even if the one he’s currently flashing is meant to be bitter. 

Renjun is cute, and Donghyuck doesn’t know what to do with that information.

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure another quaffle finds its way into your dental work,” he splutters. 

Renjun laughs dryly, clearly not amused. He eyes Donghyuck up and down, gaze landing on his fingers where they grip the handle of the broom, knuckles wrapped around the FIREBOLT logo. After a moment of insufferable silence Renjun flicks his gaze away, turns on his heel and walks out, calling out to him over his shoulder as he leaves.

“See you on the field, Hyuck.”

.*•.•*. 

“Ten points from Hufflepuff for cheating,” Renjun snaps, snatching the Auto-Answer Quill from Hendery’s grip. 

“Ten points _to_ Hufflepuff for… being resourceful,” Donghyuck counters, flicking his wand and summoning the quill over Renjun’s shoulder. 

“Donghyuck.” Renjun turns, glare heating up. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m using my neutral judgement as a patron of the library and my privilege as Slytherin Head Boy to award points to a competing house as I deem it worthy,” Donghyuck recites, failing to withhold a smirk. 

“No,” Renjun says, “You’re using your privilege to be an _asshole._ He’s cheating! You just don’t want Hufflepuff to start losing points to Ravenclaw.”

“Well, _I_ didn’t see any cheating,” Donghyuck replies. Hendery grins, slowly backing away as Renjun’s back is turned. “I just saw a student doing his homework.” 

“Please, will you just let me do my job,” Renjun groans. “We literally both work for Irene. Why do you always insist on making everything so difficult?”

“It’s fun.” 

“Not for me,” Renjun groans, and when he sighs, Donghyuck can make out the bags under his eyes and the sag to his shoulders. He looks tired. He probably stays up until dawn to do that goddamn History of Magic homework that everyone else cheats on. Donghyuck doesn’t know why, but he feels guilty.

“Sorry,” he says.

The way Renjun looks up at him, you would think Donghyuck just said the killing curse. 

.*•.•*.

As fate would have it, the final match of Donghyuck’s Hogwarts career comes down to Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

It should be memorable, the sort of pivotal life moment that you remember for the rest of your life, but it all passes by for Donghyuck in a giant blur. He blocks shot after shot, head pounding with adrenaline, wind in his hair, body in overdrive-- and then it's over. 

They win. It's the victory he's ben dreaming of, but it tastes hollow on his tongue, getting caught in his throat when they shake hands with the other team and Renjun looks him in the eye with a final "good game". 

.*•.•*.

The night starts, like all bad ideas start, with one sentence:

 _“It was Jaemin’s idea.”_

Captain Na had insisted that Slytherin’s victory over Ravenclaw called for a round of brandy and butterbeer at Hog’s Head. The only problem: Yangyang is still underage, seeing as he should technically still be a sixth year. Na Jaemin isn’t one to let trivial matters such as breaking the law get in the way of his plans, though, so when he bursts into his and Donghyuck’s bedroom with a maniacal expression plastered on his face, Donghyuck knows his best friend has been scheming. 

“I need a favor,” Jaemin asks, in a way that doesn’t really make it seem optional. 

“Of what, exactly?” 

“I need you to get Renjun’s invisibility cloak.”

Donghyuck blinks. “You need me to _what_?” 

Jaemin smiles. “I need you to get Renjun’s invisibility cloak. So we can sneak Liu into Hog’s Head tonight.”

“And how exactly am I going to get Renjun Huang’s invisibility cloak, Jaem?” Donghyuck laughs. “Why can’t you get it yourself? You’re pretty good at sneaking into other prefects’ bedrooms.” 

Jaemin waves him off. “We’re not stealing it, dumbass. We’re borrowing it. Which is why you need to ask him, because if I ask, he’ll say no.”

“Okay, and what makes you think he’ll say yes to me, exactly?” 

Jaemin laughs. “You’re an idiot, Donghyuck.” He grabs his wand and heads for the door. “Look, trust me— just invite him to come along or something. Jeno’s coming too, I doubt he’ll say no. Just get him to bring the cloak one way or another.”

This is how Donghyuck finds himself stuck outside the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room with thirty minutes to midnight.

The door has a fucking password, because of course it does, and the password is a fucking riddle, because of course it is. This is Ravenclaw, after all. A normal password like the Slytherin passage uses wouldn’t be enough to fuel their collective ego. As unsurprising as it is, Donghyuck is still annoyed, because Jaemin failed to mention anything about a riddle, let alone an answer, and now he’s standing out here yelling at a metal door knocker like an insane person. 

_“I make two people out of one,”_ the door repeats. _“What am I?”_

“You’re a little bitch!” Donghyuck exclaims, slamming his fist against the wood. “Can’t you just tell someone in there to let me in!” 

_“Can’t you solve the riddle?”_ taunts the door. 

Donghyuck replies with another round of knocking, which at this point has been reduced to him pounding mercilessly against the entrance and hoping that someone inside will get annoyed enough to let him in. 

_“I make two people out of one. What am I?”_

“I don’t know!” 

“A mirror,” comes a voice from behind Donghyuck’s back, and to his eternal annoyance, the door swings right open. 

Park Jisung smiles at him. “Hi, Donghyuck. Did you need something?” 

“Uh,” he immediately blanks. How should he explain this to Jisung? The kid is like a mini-Rejun— not exactly one to encourage rule breaking, or if they’re being specific, law breaking. “I’m, uh, looking for Renjun Huang.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “For real?” 

“Yeah, for real. I need to ask him something.” Donghyuck blinks. “Can I, ah, come in?”

Jisung nods, still staring at him like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Sure, dude… Follow me.” He ducks under the door frame. God, Jisung has gotten tall. Donghyuck still remembers when the sorting hat nearly swallowed him. “I’ll let Renjun know you want to… see him?” Jisung asks as they ascend the small staircase and turn the corner into the common room.

“Yeah… please. Thanks.”

Donghyuck has never seen the inside of Ravenclaw tower before, but he has to admit, he’s floored by the sight of it. It’s beautiful. The starlight filtering in from all directions through the windows that line the circular tower walls is breathtaking, and he finds himself extremely envious of the view, jealous of the fourth-years doing their astronomy homework through the telescopes that point out at the horizon. There’s gold detailing wrapped around the walls, making the interior gleam even in the dim candlelight. Jisung jogs ahead of him, heading for another door that opens up to another staircase. The bedrooms must be above them. 

“Wait here,” he calls, vanishing up the staircase.

Donghyuck waits, suddenly feeling quite out of place now that he’s alone in the tower. Most of the other students don’t pay him much attention, busy with their studies, but a group of first years sitting by the fireplace in the center of the room is staring over at him with wide eyes, giggling and whispering amongst each other. Donghyuck can imagine what they must be thinking. _It’s the Slytherin Head Boy. What’s he doing in our common room? Is he going to get us in trouble? I’m scared, where’s Renjun?_

He shifts awkwardly, staring out the window and focusing on the stars. They don’t get to see the sky from the slytherin common room, the only windows looking out into the depths of the great lake at the murky waters and sea dwelling beasts.

“Wow, he wasn’t bullshitting me. Enlighten me, what brings Lee Donghyuck to Ravenclaw tower?” 

Donghyuck turns around to find Renjun standing by the fire, dressed in his pajamas. 

“Nightgown, huh? You’re done studying for the night? Isn’t it too early?”

Renjun doesn’t laugh, pulling up a chair and kicking his legs up onto the table. The fireplace crackles behind him, flames dancing across his face. In the warm light, he looks softer than he usually does; the sharpness in his gaze has vanished, his own fire dimmed. 

“It’s a Friday... I was going to get some rest, for once,” he says. “I think you were joking, but you’re right. I should be reading. I _just_ managed to talk myself out of it.” He looks up at Donghyuck, letting out a sigh. “Surely you didn’t come all the way up here just to nag me about studying for the N.E.W.T.s, though?” 

Right. Donghyuck came up here to… well, he probably should have thought more about exactly what he was going to do what he got in, shouldn’t he.

“No...” He leans against the back of the other chair, staring at the fireplace as if the flames are going to give him an answer. _Just invite him to come along or something._ Excellent advice, Jaemin. “No. I was going to ask you if you were busy?”

Renjun tenses up. “What? Why?” He narrows his eyes. “If this is about Arithmancy homework, I’m not just going to give the answers to you. You should have started it earlier” 

“What? No,” Donghyuck stammers. Not the response he had been hoping for, but he supposes it’s the one he should have been expecting. “That’s not— it’s actually— some of the seventh years are going for drinks and I’d, uh, I’d like it if you came with us?”

Renjun stares at him like he’s seen a ghost. 

“You wanted… to invite me for drinks?” he asks. He narrows his eyes, but his voice betrays him, soft and hopeful. “You came all the way up here to… Wow. That’s… unexpected. I almost can’t believe you. You sure that’s the only reason?” 

Of course Renjun doesn’t believe him— he’s right not to, because Donghyuck is here for something. He should ask him for the invisibility cloak right now, before he digs himself into a hole he can’t get out of, because Renjun is right, that _is_ what he came all the way up here for... right?

As soon as he catches a gleam of warmth in Renjun’s eyes, Donghyuck has an earth-shattering epiphany: he just made Renjun happy, and the expression on his face right now is so much more important than the invisibility cloak. 

“There’s no other reason,” he says. “I just wanted you to come.”

.*•.•*.

Donghyuck wakes up with a killer headache, his robes from the night before tangled around his torso like the branches of the whomping willow. He groans, slipping out of bed and fumbling for his wand. The sunlight is bright, and it makes him wince. Across the room, Jaemin lets out an amused noise, watching Donghyuck fumble around. 

"Sleep well?" he laughs.

"What the hell," Donghyuck groans. "I feel like I'm on the receiving end of a memory hex. I don't remember a thing after the third glass of mead."

"Consider that a blessing," Jaemin says. "It was an absolute mess."

"What happened?"

"Yangyang snuck in, Jeno got too drunk and tried to ask out a girl at the bar, Mark accidentally ate one of the Nosebleed Nougats from my Skiving Snackbox and I had to stuff a napkin up his nose... and then you."

Donghyuck freezes. "What? What the hell did I do?"

"You were nice. To Renjun."

It sounds like the least impressive event of the night, but Donghyuck grasps at the memory, a tired head falling onto his shoulder and a laugh as bright the chimes of a garden in the springtime.

.*•.•*.

“You have to ask someone to the ball, Donghyuck.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” 

The common room is eerie at sunset, awash in the last rays of sea-green light that have managed to make their way to the bottom of the great lake and through the underwater windows. Curls of light ripple across the walls, dancing across Yangyang and Jaemin’s faces as they lounge on the chairs by the unlit fireplace.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” Yangyang tells him, “but a lot of people find you very desirable. I’ve had the misfortune of hearing the details many times on the staircases, from a variety of people.” He scrunches his nose, narrowing his eyes. “You reject them all, but you don’t have your eye on anyone? Yeah, I don’t buy it.”

“I just don’t see myself enjoying it very much,” Donghyuck insists, waving a hand. “I’ll just go with Mark.”

Jaemin smirks. “No, you won’t.” 

Donghyuck freezes. “What?” 

Why does Jaemin have such a shit-eating grin plastered on his face right now? _What does he know?_ “The hell, Nana? Is someone going with Mark?”

To his left, Yangyang snorts, trying to suppress a laugh and failing miserably. Jaemin is still grinning, but he tries to play it cool as he leans back in his armchair.

“Yeah, someone asked Mark.”

“Who?”

“Oh, you know,” Jaemin says. “Me.” 

Donghyuck nearly snaps his wand in two.

“ _You?_ What the hell? Jaemin Na is taking Mark Lee, _my_ childhood best friend, to the _Yule Ball_ ? Since _when_?” 

“Since they snogged in the Gryffindor prefects’ bathroom for like, an hour and a half yesterday,” Yangyang coughs, bursting out into maniacal laughter. “Oh my god, Hyuck. They’ve been attached at the hip for like, two weeks. You really haven’t noticed?”

He hadn’t. Donghyuck has been a bit… preoccupied.

Jaemin’s teasing smirk relaxes into a genuine smile. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just asked him yesterday, actually, but I didn’t see you...” 

“It’s fine, Jaem. I’m not _mad._ Just.. thoroughly surprised, to say the least. I mean, you and Mark?”

The shit-eating grin reappears. “Yep.” Jaemin looks extremely proud of himself. 

Well, there goes Donghyuck’s fail-safe plan. It’s not like he was actually _interested_ in Mark or anything— not since he was twelve, anyways— but going to the ball with Mark would have been nice, would have actually been _fun,_ and would have given him a much needed distraction. How the hell hadn’t Donghyuck realized what was going on between his friends? He’s not shocked that Jaemin didn’t bring it up, the bastard, but he’s a bit surprised that Mark didn’t tell him. Mark usually tells him everything.

Yangyang kicks his boots up onto the table. “See? You’d better make a move soon, Hyuck. I’m serious. If you don’t hurry up, the only available bachelor left at Hogwarts is going to be Mrs. Norris.”

“How the fuck is Mrs. Norris a bachelor?” Jaemin laughs. “First of all, she’s married to Doyoung. Also, _bachelorette_.” 

“Whatever!” Yangyang ignores him, glaring at Donghyuck knowingly. “The point is, you need a date, dude. I am not gonna sit here and watch my friend spend the entire Yule Ball moping and pining!” 

“Who says I’m moping or pining?”

“ _Hyuck._ You look like someone put a curse on you,” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “How dull do you think your friends are, huh? I don’t know if you think you’re being slick, but you aren’t. You are _pining_. Spill it.”

Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. “Shut the hell up. I am not pining. I do not _pine_. Unlike you, I can go three days without snogging anyone and I won’t be filled with existential dread.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jaemin laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just remember… you can’t just like, skip the ball and hide in the tower all night. You’re Head Boy. If you don’t end up with a date, your sad ass still has to show up there alone and make sure nobody spiked the pumpkin juice.” 

“I’m not sad! Why do you both think I’m so sad?” Donghyuck exclaims, standing up. “I just haven’t thought of who to ask yet, that’s all— and I do _not_ need you two morons ‘helping’ with that. You’ll just fuck me over.” He points a finger at his best friends accusingly. 

Jaemin pouts. “Hey. You always assume the worst in us. We can be helpful!”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, and Jaemin can only feign serious for about a half a second before the three of them burst into laughter. 

.*•.•*.

“How in the hell do you lose a _boggart,_ ” Irene asks, looking at them all like they’re war criminals.

All eight of the Head Prefects are frozen in their seats. Donghyuck is afraid to blink. 

Headmistress Irene is already the most terrifying woman that Donghyuck has ever seen on a good day, but when she’s mad, she’s downright bone-chilling. 

“I don’t know, Headmistress,” Jeno stammers. “Some fifth years were in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom after hours. They claimed that they were ‘practicing’, but when Yaebin found an unlocked chest, they admitted to letting something… escape.”

“I’ve already docked fifty points from Gryffindor,” Heejin sighs. “Trust me— no member of my team will be making such a mistake again.” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at Mark, curious as to which member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was responsible for releasing a boggart. 

_Chenle,_ Mark mouths back. _Who else?_

“Well, you _will_ all see to it that by the end of the night that thing is back where it came from,” Irene insists, deadly serious. “Having a boggart roaming around at breakfast is not an option. Understand?”

Oh, they all understand. 

“Go,” she insists, and promptly aparrates out of the room, leaving the eight of them to the challenge.

.*•.•*.

Splitting up to catch the monster in the castle always seems like a great idea, until _you’re_ the one who finds the monster. 

Donghyuck can hear it before he sees it— something rattling around the corner. It would be a safe bet to guess that it was just Mrs. Norris stuck in one of the cauldrons again, but the closer Donghyuck gets, the less easy it is to lie to himself— he’s found the boggart.

He peers around the corner, slipping his wand out of his sleeve.

It’s stumbling around, a shapeless smoky form that moves without direction, knocking the paintings off of the walls and crashing into the decorative statues. Donghyuck takes a step forwards, raising his wand ever so slightly, footsteps careful and practiced but not enough to prevent the echo in the empty corridor.

The boggart freezes. It begins to take form, smoke curling onto itself into the form of something solid, something human. 

When it turns to face him, the boggart is Renjun. 

Donghyuck freezes. 

“Hi, Donghyuck,” The boggart laughs. 

He knows how to fight a boggart. It’s easy. Elementary. One word is all it takes— but Donghyuck can’t say it. Because this is not what his boggart is supposed to be. 

He was _prepared_ for his boggart, because it’s supposed to be his father. His father always tells him that he’s a disgrace, and Donghyuck always says the magic words and his father turns into a can of worms. But this boggart is not his father, this boggart is _Renjun,_ for some reason, and that’s so much scarier.

“You still can’t beat me?” says Renjun— the boggart. It’s Renjun’s voice, but it doesn’t sound like him. There’s no warmth at all, none of the vibrance to the usual snark — it’s just cold. “You can never beat me. I always win. You know that,” it whispers, stepping closer to him.

Donghyuck draws his wand. He should say the spell. Right now.

“You’re not Renjun,” he says instead. 

“You’re never going to be good enough for me, Donghyuck,” it says back. “You’ve always known that.”

Donghyuck backs up a step, and the boggart approaches, Renjun’s face smirking at him, cold as ice. 

“You’re spoiled, clumsy, unforgivable and weak,” it whispers. Renjun’s eyes glare at him. “I’ve hated you since the day we met.” 

“Shut up!” Donghyuck cries, stumbling backwards as he trips over his own feet, the boggart towering over him. Renjun’s perfect teeth begin to elongate into something monstrous, starlight eyes darkening into black voids. 

“You lose,” it says, voice pitching into something deep and horrifying that incites the most primal feeling of terror that Donghyuck has ever felt in his entire life, and he screws his eyes shut, senseless with fear. It's clear now what the sorting hat meant when it spoke to him all those years ago-- Donghyuck is a coward. He's going to die afraid to face his own heart.

Suddenly, a voice echoes through the hall from the other end of the corridor. 

“ _RIDDIKULUS!_ ” 

The boggart twitches; convulses in the air as Donghyuck watches the clone of the Ravenclaw chaser explode into a burst of blue and green confetti. As the air clears, Donghyuck can make out the silhouette of his company, whatever unfortunate soul he’s going to have to scare into an unbreakable vow of silence about what they just witnessed.

Oh. 

_Oh, no._

Standing there, wand still poised for a fight, gaping down at Donghyuck through the last fluttering pieces of the illusion, is the very _real_ Renjun Huang.

He’s staring at Donghyuck with wide eyes, his mouth half-open like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t move. Just stands there, still frozen in place, brandishing his wand aimlessly. Donghyuck’s mind goes blank. Renjun saved him. Renjun _saw_ him.

“I. Uh.” God. What can he say? How can he explain that? He doesn’t want to explain it at all, wishes to God that anyone else had walked down that corridor. Mark. Doyoung. The freaking _cat_. “Renjun…” 

“Hyuck. Are you… alright?”

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say to that. 

Renjun waves his wand, sweeps the pieces of the boggart-confetti across the floor and blows them inside a nearby suit of armor, which immediately begins to rattle. He ignores it, turning towards Donghyuck, looking down at where he’s still splayed on the ground. He looks… well, it’s hard to tell, with Renjun. It always is. They just stare at each other, neither able to speak, neither able to look away. The corridor might as well be on fire. Donghyuck feels like he’s suffocating.

“You’re afraid of— you’re afraid of _me?_ ” Renjun finally chokes out. 

“What? No! Of course I’m not afraid of you,” Donghyuck stammers. 

Renjun steps closer, lowering his wand. “So...” His voice grows softer. “What was all that, then?” he asks, gesturing to the suit of armor that’s stumbling around the hallway behind them, boggart still trapped inside. Donghyuck sighs.

“Losing. To you.” 

“To m- _what_?” Renjun pockets his wand carefully, cautiously kneeling down on the stone across from him. 

“That’s… what I’m afraid of. Losing to you,” Donghyuck mumbles. It’s too late to try to lie, to pretend what Renjun saw was anything but what it was. He has no cards left to play. “More than anything else in the world. Renjun, don’t you get it? Everything I _do_ is to win against you— in class, in combat, in Quidditch... we’re always in a tie. You’ve always hated me, and I’ve tried for seven years to win you over again. I wanted to impress you, to beat you just once and prove I’m better than what you think of me, but I can’t.”

“I don’t hate you,” Renjun whispers. “I never have.”

“Well, I know you don’t like me, and I don’t exactly blame you,” Donghyuck insists. “But somehow, after all this time, you’ve been my perfect match. I should be fine with that, right? If I can’t win, at least I’ve got a perfect rival. But I don’t _want_ you to be my rival. I want...” He bites his lip. His voice grows impossibly small. “If you don’t want… _what I want..._ then, for the first time, I really lose.”

He tears his eyes away, staring purposefully at the cracks in the stone floor. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough on the floor and not the boy in front of him, he’ll turn to stone too. 

“Donghyuck.”

No. Renjun’s voice is inquisitive, begging for him to continue, but that’s all Donghyuck has to say. That’s all he has to give. He shakes his head— he doesn’t want to know the answer.

He doesn’t want to lose just yet.

“ _Donghyuck_.” 

Renjun’s fingertips are on his jaw, pulling his chin upwards. “Look at me, you absolute idiot,” he whispers. Donghyuck lets his eyes flicker upwards. Renjun is staring. _Renjun is smiling._ The statue is still stumbling around behind them, boggart rattling around inside its new prison. 

“We should probably take care of that” Donghyuck deflects, unable to stand the way it feels to be looked at knowing that Renjun has just seen inside his head. “It might, like, break out of there.”

“It takes one word to trap a boggart, Donghyuck,” Renjun laughs. “We can handle it.”

 _Renjun_ can handle it. Donghyuck took one look at his own heart and terrified himself. Seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts and the one fear he can’t get over is the boy sitting six inches away from him, so close that his heartbeat echoes in the empty corridor. 

“Besides, why does it matter? I’ve already seen what you’re scared of.”

“And?” 

The question echoes in the hallway, vanishing into the night and leaving them both drowning in candlelight and silence. It’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever done— looking into Renjun’s eyes. 

Renjun has never looked at him like this before. _Nobody has ever looked at him like this before._

“And,” he whispers, “I think you’re a fool, Lee Donghyuck.”

.*•.•*.

“Do I look okay?”

Jaemin whips around, facing Donghyuck with a look of pure panic plastered on his face. Donghyuck never gets the luxury of seeing him like this, so he waits a couple seconds before he answers, watching as his growing silence turns Jaemin’s hair a darker and darker shade of green. Ironically, it matches his shirt and his overcoat nicely, both the token Slytherin shade of a deep emerald green. 

“Well? Do I?”

“You look fine, Nana,” Yangyang laughs, lounging on Jaemin’s bed with his boots on the headboard. Even for a formal ball, the kid refuses to ditch the combat boots. 

“You do,” Donghyuck agrees. “Really. Besides, it’s Mark. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I wasn’t worrying about it,” Jaemin insists, but there are freckles appearing only on his left cheek, and one of his ears is starting to point like an elf’s, which says otherwise. 

“Just go get your facial features under control for a minute and I’m sure you’ll sweep him off of his feet,” Donghyuck presses. “Yangyang is the one who should be worried, since apparently his idea of dress robes is an anime cosplay.”

“It’s _streetwear!_ ” Yangyang counters. “Nobody said dress robes has to be an actual dress.”

“Yeah, but you look like you’re going to a funeral, dude,” Jaemin points out, squinting at himself in the window pane as he wills his ear back down to a normal size. 

“Well, I wanted to match Dejun.” 

“I still can’t believe he agreed to go with you.”

“ _I_ still can’t believe Hyuck won’t tell us who his date is.” 

Two sets of eyes flick over to Donghyuck, accusing. 

“I’m not going to tell you,” he smirks. “You can find out with the rest of the school.” 

“I’m offended,” Jaemin says, pointing a finger at him threateningly. “Trust me. I will remember this insult until I die.” 

Donghyuck snorts, leaning over to check his reflection in Jaemin’s window. 

He’s not going to admit it, but he’s a thousand times more nervous than either of the other two could possibly be. His palms refuse to stop sweating— his wand keeps slipping from his grip. He leans in, adjusting the high collar of his shirt, the tiny silver threads glinting in the candlelight. 

Jaemin narrows his eyes. “Are you wearing… blue eyeshadow?”

Donghyuck freezes. “No. Um. Maybe.”

“You are. It’s blue. You’re totally matching somebody blu— oh my god.” He grins, backs up a step, and begins laughing maniacally. “I knew it!”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “You’re joking. Tell me you didn’t just win.”

“Oh, I think I just won, baby! Ten galleons, Liu. Fork it over.”

“Nuh-uh— he has to confirm it! I’m not giving you shit!”

Donghyuck whips around. “Hold the fuck up. Are you two— did you guys _bet_ on my Yule Ball date?”

“No, of course not,” Jaemin insists.

“Absolutely,” Yangyang deadpans. “So, is he right?”

Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest, dress sleeves fluttering. “I have no idea what you mean,” he lies. 

“Oh my god,” Jaemin groans. “Yes or no: Is it Huang?”

_Well, shit._

Honestly, he should have known that Jaemin knew. He must have known before Donghyuck did himself— setting him up for years, egging him on to mess with Renjun, Jaemin has always had a knack for pushing Donghyuck's heart down this path. He should really stop underestimating his friends. Sometimes, Donghyuck thinks that he’s the least of all of them— a thought that would have scared him as a child, but after seven years, just makes him feel proud.

“I’m so sorry, Yangyang,” Donghyuck admits with a laugh, “but you owe Jaemin ten galleons.” 

.*•.•*.

Just when Donghyuck finally thought he had his shit together, Renjun walks down the staircase. 

He looks beautiful. Donghyuck thinks that exact phrase, word for word. It's the cheesiest thought he’s ever had in his entire life, and all of a sudden, seven years of his life hit him like a train— memories of curses spat at one another, pranks pulled and mischief managed, stolen gazes disguised as glares and endless games to beat one another at.

It’s clear, as Renjun turns mid-laugh and meets his gaze with eyes gleaming by the light of a thousand floating candles, that Donghyuck has wanted nothing more than this since the day they met. 

“You look lovely in blue,” Renjun says, biting his lip and fiddling with the strings of his white overcoat as he slips down the final step.

“God. Wow. I wish I hadn't said a word on that train. I could have had this for seven years,” Donghyuck spits out, and he didn’t really think any of that through before it left his mouth, but it’s done, he just said it. 

Renjun’s eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just stares at Donghyuck like he’s watching something mythical, like a supernova or the regeneration of a phoenix— and then, in one swift motion, he steps forward and pulls Donghyuck in by the collar.

Renjun is kissing him, and for the first time in his life, Donghyuck understands what it really feels like to win.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> mischief managed!
> 
> .*•.•*.


End file.
